


We'll Make 'Em Turn Their Heads

by Captain Sasspants (pantsoffdanceoff)



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantsoffdanceoff/pseuds/Captain%20Sasspants
Summary: Kate invites America to a formal ball. America's got her own ideas about what that entails.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [partypaprika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/partypaprika/gifts).



> Title's from Be My Baby by the Ronettes, because reasons.

The invitation comes in the mail, in an unmarked envelope. It’s not hard to guess who it’s from, from the gold embossing, the swirling calligraphy and the tiny purple flowers pressed into the paper.

Her cellphone sings _I kissed a--I kissed a girl and I liked it_ , as two text messages came through. She keeps forgetting to change it. _Did u get the invite?_ texts Kate, _Should I send a marchesa 4u?_

America tilts her head and replies, _???_

 _Lol,_ comes Kate’s rapid-fire response, followed by a hyperlink.

It’s a photo of a model in a ballroom gown, all purple and frills and no allowances for kicks, like a dozen she’s seen Kate wear. She rereads the letter. _Attire for ladies: black or white dress, white mask, folding fan. Jewelry: only diamonds, pearls and black am-er._

A tiny lavender bud bisects the last word--amber, perhaps? Well, she thinks, running a hand through her hair as she mentally combs through her closet, we’ll see about that. _Nah_ , she texts Kate, _I got this_.

In New Czechoslovakia, she purchases double-breasted dress pants that hugs her hips. On Earth-212, she buys hoop earrings, made of a white copper alloy made nowhere else, and rings to match. Her bolero jacket, she picks up in the Kingdom of Khmer, her mask in West Alaska. She hops through a series of Earths, until she finds the perfect boots in Argentea, heavy, fire-proof and studded with rhinestones.

That leaves only her top.

America remembers a girl who loved the sequins of Earth-4333, which shifts from blue to ultraviolet depending on how it caught the light. She kicks through the thin fabric of space-time, and lands in Newer Orleans. Immediately, a wall of humidity and diesel fumes hits her.

Turns out, that’s the only part that’s familiar. The high shops of Laplace Rowe are all boarded up, scorch marks scarring the streets. An inhuman roar pierces the air.

America jumps aside just in time to dodge a laser beam shot from a giant robot, big enough to blot out the sky.

“Hey, ugly,” she says, “You don’t look like you need that head,” and punches it right off.

The fallen body part dissolves into a million nanopieces, flowing right back into place. The laser gun, mounted where eyes would go on a human, start charging up again.

“Over here!” shouts a woman’s voice. A middle-aged woman waves beneath a sign for _Tia’s Flowers_. America makes a run for it, a blast of heat narrowly missing her as Tia slams the door behind them.

America nudges aside the wilting flowers to peer out of the chinks in the boarded up windows. Shiny mylar banners unfurl from the rooftops. She says, “What are they doing?”

“The Destroyer’s got a remote control,” says Tia, “Block the signal, and the whole thing falls apart.”

America checks her watch. She’s already running behind schedule. “Block its signal, huh?”

She runs back out into the street, and narrowly misses a swing from the Destroyer.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” she says, punching an inter-dimensional hole.

“You’re.” She shoves the Destroyer a step back. “Going.” It digs its heels in. “To.” But it’s still no match for her uppercut. “Make.” The reforming takes more time this time, as it heals everything from the shoulders up. “Me.” She takes a running leap. “Late!”

She kicks the robot through the star-shaped gate, both of them falling through into a marble ballroom. The Destroyer crumbles like sand, dissolving away as the hole seals up behind them.

A murmur goes around the room. America stands up slowly. She’s not entirely sure which dimension she landed in, except that there are definitely not enough rabbits for Earth-6962. Plenty of other animals masks though--panther and swans, cats and penguins, and someone awkwardly holding a horsehead mask, mopping his forehead.

Three things happen at the same time:

  1. Katy Perry stammers through a confession as her phone blows up with text messages. Yay, reception.
  2. “Oh,” says a Kate, in opera gloves and a pearl necklace, pulling off a hawk mask, “I thought you skipped out.”
  3. The Destroyer starts building itself up again from its feet up.



“Sorry, got busy,” says America, “Everybody, out!”

Most of the crowd has already skedaddled, Mr. Horsehead still bouncing blindly off the tables and walls as America stomps a portal right into the fancy, polished floor. They fall through, she and the Destroyer, into Earth-1134, into a courtyard of some sort, empty except for an ulama ball slowly rolling away.

A bell chimes somewhere.

And then an arrow flies out of nowhere to embed itself in the giant robot.

“Brute force doesn’t work,” says America, “Tried that already.”

“Oh no,” says Kate, sarcastically, “I didn’t get the memo when a twenty foot drop didn’t faze it.”

The arrows blow a concussive blast that drive the Destroyer a good ten feet back. Huh.

“Cool. We’re driving it backwards into the building over there,” says America, pointing at the three-story entrance to the game hall. “It’s lined with lead. And where’d you get the tech?”

“Stark Industries. Jealous?” says Kate, as she notches five arrows onto her bowstring.

“Not really,” says America. Between one breath and the next, all five arrows dart through the air, piercing the robot through its eyes, knees and chest. “Doesn’t he have a different guinea pig for his arrows?”

“Guinea pig broke his left tibia again. And arm,” says Kate.

The arrows blow, shaking the ground as the robot goes flying like a marionette, right into the hall.

“Falling off a building?” says America, slamming both doors shut.

The doors rattle a few times, and then the banging dies down. Kate says, “Falling out of a car jumping over a building.” She raises her eyebrows to match America’s own. “Don’t ask.”

The robot shoots through the roof, sending slate tiles everywhere.

America sighs. “Change of plan.”

They lock the Destroyer in a bank vault, an underwater prison and on the moon, but it breaks free from them all. They try a universe with silicon-eating bugs, extra-high gravity, and a universe without technology.

That one was bad.

“Who knew Saurolophuses weren’t cute at all?” says Kate, wringing out the bottom hem of her dress. It’s stained a grayish tan, half its crystals lost in a mad dash through the jungle.

America says, “I told you, princess, that Hadrosaurids are all assholes, but did you listen?”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Kate. “So where are we now?”

America squints. They’re not near the Texan capitol of Seguin, but the street signs still look familiar.

“Tia’s Flowers,” reads Kate, “You think they sell anything good here?”

Oh. Oh, no. The ground starts shaking.

“Yeah, some ass-kicking if we’re lucky,” says America. “Lotta ugly incoming.”

The Destroyer rears its head from the opposite side of Laplace Rowe, followed by its equally ugly twin.

“There a BOGO sale going on, or something?” says Kate, and then yelps when America punches a portal under all four of them.

They land somewhere in New Kowloon, America alone in an alley covered with movie posters and electrical wires stapled to the wall.

“Kate?” she calls. A few curious faces peek out of the grilled windows of the floors above her, but there’s no answer. She cups her hands around her mouth and tries again. “Hawkeye?”

 _I kissed a girl and I liked it_ , says America’s pocket.

Pieces start falling in place in America’s mind. She flips open her phone to double check. It’s a text from Kate, dated a minute ago that just reads, _Under a poster of william chen u?_

The unlit maze of alleys zigs and zags, rainwater dripping down between cracks in the sheet metal ceiling. There’s no way of knowing where Kate or the Destroyers are, but she has to find them before--

The entire construct shudders, raining debris and sparks. Kate appears out of the darkness, grabbing America, yelling, “Go, go, go, before--”

America punches a portal just as the Destroyers rip their way through a building to get at them.

“Wow, this is a little Lord of the Rings,” says Kate, scanning the horizon. They’ve landed on the side of a volcano, belching smoke into the orange sky.

“You saying you want a ring, princess?” says America.

It gets her the blush she was after, and then Kate tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and says, “Depending on the ring, of course. Now, a good Musgravite--” She trails off, looking at America’s outstretched hand. “What, you saying you have one right here?”

“We can go ring-shopping later,” says America, “I want your phone.”

Kate clutches it to her chest. “Why?”

“Is it also Stark Tech?” says America.

“More cutting edge than the latest version,” says Kate. “You looking to upgrade?”

“I’m looking to make those assholes stop chasing us,” says America, pointing at the Destroyers already charging up the mountain. “They didn't turn back on until your phone connected with mine. And nothing short of a volcano is destroying a Stark phone. Now hand it over.”

“But--”

“Look, princess,” says America, punching the closest giant robot. “I like spending time with you. But we could be spending the time.” She sweeps a leg, tripping up the robot as its feet disappear. “Having a nice dance, drinking fancy-pants wine.” It lands on the other robot, temporary disintegrating both. “Instead of punching robots.”

It takes five of Kate’s net arrow to contain them. “I dunno,” says Kate, watching the Destroyers struggling to free themselves from both the net and each other. “I kinda like punching robots.”

America sighs, and says, “I’ll take you to an Earth where Musgravite is as common as dirt.”

Kate leans in and brushes a kiss to the edge of America’s mouth. “It’s a date,” she says, as the hooks of one of the nets pops free. She slaps the phone into America’s hand. Another net tears.

America takes out her own phone too. Two more nets unhook from the ground. The nanopieces are already reforming, with almost an angry air. She punches a portal, and tosses the phones into the volcano behind her. Good riddance, Katy Perry.

They step through to the ballroom, where a crater still marks the spot the Destroyer fell. It’s quiet except for the sound system, quietly singing, _so won't you, please, be my, be my baby_.

Kate freezes. “Awkward sauce.”

America laughs. “Princess, everyone with eyes and a line of sight to Space Boy’s living room has seen him dance in his shorts to the Ronettes. I’ve over it if you are.”

“Well,” says Kate, taking longer than America’s ever seen her folding away her collapsible bow. “Not that part. I was going to be smooth, you know?”

“Yeah?” says America.

“Lead you in a dance, dip you real low,” continues Kate, taking America's hand. She lets herself be dipped. Kate leans in, her eyelashes fanning across her cheeks. “Steal a kiss.”

“It’s not stealing if you announce it beforehand,” says America.

Kate huffs and draws back. “Well, you could’ve said if you weren’t interested.”

America steals a kiss, tasting Kate’s waxy lipstick.

“Who said I wasn’t interested, princess?” she says, smirking at Kate’s gobsmacked look. “But really, why now?”

Kate takes a further step back, giving America a long once over. “Well, turns out you clean up real nice.”

America glances down at herself. Her new boots are splattered with prehistoric mud, there’s a tear in her pants, a burn mark on the sleeve of her jacket, and she’s still wearing her worn-thin t-shirt. But Kate’s face is flushed when America chances a glance at it, and pinks up even more when America flashes her a smile.

“You saying you’re into it, princess?” says America.

Kate rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” she says, “Where’d you get the jacket?”

America turns in a circle for Kate, so she can see the coils and ziggurats woven into the fabric. “Earth-1431. Knew a man who still knew how to weave the old _sak yant_ tattoos into silk. Wards against bullets and Skrull energy rifles.” America shrugs. “Doesn’t work in this dimension, but I like the design.”

“Looks pretty,” agrees Kate, running her fingers down America’s arm. She’s looking straight at America’s face. “Wanna dance?”

America laughs and takes Kate’s offered hand, as Elvis starts crooning about being shook up.


End file.
